


Seeking the Light Eternal

by bullpavus (talksmaths)



Series: Not Alone Do We Stand [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: First Date, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 16:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talksmaths/pseuds/bullpavus
Summary: Josephine has brought an Antivan tradition to Skyhold: Matchmaker Day, in which those in love are encouraged to show it, and those not are inclined to find it. For Cullen, this means trying to prove that he's the most deserving of someone's attention.





	1. Chapter 1

At the knock on his door, Cullen feels blush bloom across his face. After a moment, an entrance:

“You wanted me, Commander?”

Cullen cleared his throat, leaving his desk to walk across his study. It felt like trekking through molasses, every step requiring concentration. Or maybe it was just his nerves making him reconsider every move he made.

Cullen realized he had been thinking too much and not talking when his guest raised his eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Aclassi,” Cullen began.

“Uh-uh. Krem.”

“Krem,” Cullen repeated dumbly. “I need to ask your advice on something.”

Krem let his shoulders slouch, resting on the door behind him. He let his head hang back, letting out an annoyed, disgusted sigh. “Look, I don’t condone Chief’s actions, I’m not claiming I understand him, and whatever he’s done--”

“No,” Cullen said, laughing. “It’s not--Maker, I don’t even want to know--” He shook his head, clearing away the litany of potential images filling his head. “It’s not Bull. It’s...someone else.”

“What?”

Cullen takes a deep breath, letting it out as evenly as he can. “You’re from Tevinter. I need advice on Tevinter culture.”

“Please don’t ask about blood magic.”

Cullen blinks, taken aback. “Uh--I, no. I need to ask about...courtships, and things.”

Krem’s eyebrows knit. “Fucking Maker, are you trying to ask me out?”

Cullen’s throat closes up and he struggles to breathe for a beat. “What? No! No, no, no, of course not.” A beat, then: “I mean, not like that, not to insult you, just that--”

“You’re fine, Commander,” Krem laughs, enjoying every bit of Cullen’s embarrassment. “Was just teasing. But who--?” He snaps his fingers, grinning proudly. “The only other Tevene in the Inquisition.”

“I...yes,” Cullen mutters. “I--I want to plan something for him.”

“And you want it to be Tevinter-special and not Ferelden-special, right?”

“Right,” Cullen laughs. It’s low and too quick to leave him like awkward steam pent up in an uncomfortable boiler. “I want to make sure it is up to his standards.”

“And you think Dorian and me are interchangeable?”

Cullen blinks, rubbing his neck, looking down. “I’m starting to regret this.”

Krem laughs, hard, almost doubling over. “I’ll help you, Commander. I’m no mage, but I know what he’s used to. After all, it’s Matchmaker Day tomorrow.”

Cullen matches the confident, wide grin Krem offers him.

 

 

 

 

  
  
Cullen was the one knocking on Lavellan’s door, but it didn’t make him feel any less nervous.

“What’s the matter? What’s wrong, Commander?” Her face was serious, searching Cullen’s, panic imminent. Her white vallaslin moved as her brow furrowed.

“It’s--it’s nothing bad. Can I come in?”

Lavellan blinks, surprised, but moves back so Cullen can enter. She shuts the door behind him and they walk up to the upper level. Lavellan invites Cullen to sit on her couch and she sits on the floor in front of him. Cullen watches her fold her legs and he’s amazed at how lithe she is. He’s seen her at her strongest, toughest, fastest, and yet so much was masked by the gentleness. When she looked back up at him, he forgot what he was doing there for a moment.

“I just need advice.”

“On what?”

“On...well…” Cullen put his hands through his hair. Even after his meeting with Krem, it wasn’t any easier to talk about Dorian. He was still so fucking  _ nervous _ . “Mage things.”

“ _ Mage  _ things?” Lavellan laughs. “What does that mean?”

“I--”

Cullen looks away for a moment, out over her balcony. For all they had been through together, he could trust her.

“Tomorrow is Matchmaker Day, right?”

Lavellan nods, tilting her head to listen more.

“IwanttoaskamageoutonandIwanttodoitright.”

Lavellan laughs, putting her hands up. “Wait. You’re asking someone out? A  _ mage _ ? Who?”

Cullen clears his throat, trying to ignore the blush rising up his neck and face, making his voice shrink. “It’s a surprise, okay? So please keep it to yourself.”

“Of course, Cullen,” Lavellan says. “You can trust me.”

Cullen takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, evenly. “It’s...Dorian.”

Instantly, Lavellan’s sober face breaks into a wide, bright smile.

“I know exactly how to help.”

 

 

 

 

  
  
A knock on Cullen’s study door and he stands immediately as if his seat were on fire. Cullen clears his throat and rolls his shoulders before opening the door. 

“You wished to speak with me, Commander?”

Velvet: that’s all Cullen can hear.

“What?”

“Lavellan said you needed to see me. Krem said it was political, but he didn’t know much else. I assume it’s an emergency.”

Cullen let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Uh, no. It’s not--” Cullen sighs. He moves back so Dorian can enter. Cullen shuts the door behind him, watching Dorian look over Cullen’s desk, draped with a white tablecloth.

“I...I don’t understand,” Dorian says in a soft voice.

“It’s not an emergency, or political, or...anything,” Cullen stammers. “I--it’s, uh--I just wanted to, um, have dinner with you.”

Dorian looks at Cullen, examining his face. Cullen feels his face grow even hotter as he locks eyes with Dorian, grey reaching down to the bottoms of his feet.

“You did this for me?”

Cullen nods. He’s never seen Dorian so serious. Cullen feels like he’s looking into a secret side to Dorian.

It feels intimate. He blushes even harder.

Cullen gestures for Dorian to sit across from the desk-made-table. Cullen feels anxiety knead and knot his stomach. He hopes Dorian doesn’t care that the silverware doesn’t match, or that the chairs are wobbly, or that the tablecloth is stained.

Dorian looks over the food and table. There are two candles at the center of the table, and Dorian lights them with magic from his seat.

“What is the purpose of this?” Dorian asks. “I know my charm is irresistible, but surely there must be some underlying motive.”

Cullen blinks, struggling to take a deep breath. “It’s Matchmaker Day, right?”

Dorian blinks back, leaning into his chair. “I--okay. All right. I thought maybe I was projecting, but...this is...real.”

Cullen nods, feeling so stupid he wants to flee. But when Dorian smirks at him, all his regret disappears.

 

 

 

 

  
After the meal, during which Dorian was able to coax a nerve-wracked Cullen into light conversation that wasn’t about the Inquisition, Dorian stands from the table.

“I have work to return to before the day’s end. As I am sure you do as well.”

Cullen says nothing, worrying his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. Like all good things, he knew this would come to an end. They head to the door, and Cullen begins to open it. Dorian puts his hand on it, keeping it shut.

“You are full of surprises, Cullen,” Dorian says softly, smiling sweetly. “Please do keep them coming.”

Dorian reaches to flatten Cullen’s hair gently. Cullen freezes. It’s the first time Dorian has touched him. He feels a whole different kind of fear than the battlefield. It’s not the fear of the wellbeing of others, or even himself. It’s something longer than injuries. He’s afraid of having exposed his innermost desires just to have them wrenched and crushed.

Dorian’s hand moves to Cullen’s chin. He looks into Cullen’s eyes and smiles, private and small. Just for Cullen.

Somehow, in the half-moment before it happens, Cullen knows it will. He feels his thoughts, heartbeat, breathing, all of him skip a beat in anticipation. His eyes close and he focuses all his attention on the brief eternity of the kiss.

_ Soft. Electric. Velvet. Warmth. Perfect. _

When Cullen has no reaction other than staring, breathing fast, mouth slightly open, Dorian smirks.

“Have a good night, Cullen.”

Dorian closes the door behind him as he leaves. Despite the moonlight shining through the cracks in the roof and enveloping Skyhold, Cullen feels like he’s seen the light of day for the first time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now, from Dorian's perspective!

“In all things holy in this world, what are you doing?”

Josephine responded, but Dorian couldn’t hear her. She was turned away from him, crouching among the rosebushes. He squatted down to hear her better.

“I said I’m collecting flowers for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

Josephine sat back on her heels, facing Dorian. She placed the flowers she had gathered on the ground beside her. “It’s Matchmaker Day. Has the tradition really not reached Tevinter? Of all places?”

Dorian shook his head. Josephine gave an exasperated if not confused look.

“It’s Antivan,” she explained. “A day for love. If someone is in a relationship, they show it, with gifts or gestures. If someone is not, it’s a common day to ask another out on a date.”

“And what of those who are alone?”

“Well, that’s when the Matchmaker part comes in,” Josephine explains. “It’s mostly for fun, but the friends or loved ones of a person will set them up with another.” Josephine looks back at the mostly empty bush, examining it closely. “I’m helping gather roses for those who may want them as gifts.”

Dorian watched as Josephine carefully examined the bush in front of her. As he looked around the garden, he realized most of the blooms were gone and in baskets Josephine had placed around the garden.

“We’re in the midst of a war that could end the world, and you’re picking flowers,” he said.

Josephine sat up straight, whipping her head at Dorian. “We are people, not animals. Love is important and necessary, and even more so during difficult times.”

Dorian blinked, taken aback. “I apologize.”

Josephine sighed, letting her shoulders fall. “I do as well.” She placed the last few roses in the basket beside her before grabbing it and standing. “I want to improve morale. We could all use it.”

Dorian watched Josephine as she gathered all her baskets and returned to the castle. Slowly Dorian climbed to his feet, looking around at what remained of the garden. Emptiness began to press against his ribs, and he decided to return to his study.

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t understand,” Dorian said. “You need me to speak with him about something political? Isn’t that what Josie is here for?”

Krem cleared his throat, mindlessly rubbing his forearm as he searched for words. “Of course, but this is...different. She doesn’t know about this. Only the Commander does. And it’s--it’s super urgent!” he almost yells. “It’s so, so important that he couldn’t tell Josephine and he has to talk to you about it.”

“Why me?”

Krem began to look around Dorian’s study. From where he was sitting, Dorian could tell Krem was really nervous, but not the kind of nervousness that came from a political emergency. This was about something else, but Dorian couldn’t identify what.

“Because...because you’re from Tevinter,” Krem said finally, slowly. “I am too, obviously, but the Commander knows you know more about magisters and politics more than I do. So he wants to talk to you. About...mage-y important things.”

Dorian stared at Krem, who was getting even more uncomfortable.

“All right,” Dorian conceded. “When does he want to meet me?”

“Tonight,” Krem said, and Dorian noticed the hint of a smile across his words. “At his study.”

Dorian nodded, then watched Krem hastily leave.

_ What was going on? _

 

 

 

 

 

In an effort to get to the bottom of things, Dorian heads to Josephine’s study, in the antechamber of the war room. Something political that Josie wasn’t aware of is as impossible to Dorian as a turn of phrase that Varric couldn’t conceive. It just didn’t add up.

Josephine is at her desk, and Lavellan is standing beside her. They both look up at Dorian’s entrance.

“No need to stop on my account,” he quips. “I prefer compliments when I can hear them anyway.”

Lavellan rolled her eyes. “Why are you really here?”

“To speak with our diplomat,” Dorian says. “I’ve received word that there is a Tevinter political conundrum that has evaded Josie and instead has fallen into the lap of the Commander, and I need to know why.”

“How do you know of this?” Josephine asks, voice sharp and illustrious through her Antivan accent.

“Lieutenant Aclassi told me of it.”

Lavellan and Josephine look at each other briefly. When Josephine has nothing to say, Lavellan speaks.

“I know what he’s talking about. I’ll--I’ll fill Josephine in on it. Thank you, Dorian.”

Dorian blinks, confused. “But how do you know? How does Krem know? And not Josie?”

Lavellan sits on the edge of Josephine’s desk, thinking for a moment. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time, Dorian.”

“But I don’t understand how something so urgent--”

“ _ Dorian _ ,” Lavellan says, almost laughing. “It’s not that urgent. I promise. Just--we’ll talk about it tomorrow. After tonight.”

“Why after tonight?”

Lavellan looks taken aback by Dorian’s comment. She blinks, trying to find words. “Uh--well, I know Cullen needs to speak with you about it tonight. Then we can all talk about it tomorrow.”

Dorian looked over both Lavellan and Josephine, trying to figure out what Lavellan was hiding. Josephine didn’t seem to understand, and yet she was included. More importantly, Dorian was left out. Why was this being held from him?

 

 

 

 

 

“You wished to speak with me, Commander?”

Cullen blinked, unhearing. “What?”

“Lavellan said you needed to see me. Krem said it was political, but he didn’t know much else. I assume it’s an emergency.”

Dorian watches for Cullen’s response. “Uh, no,” he says. “It’s not--”

Cullen sighs. He moves back into his study so Dorian can enter, and Cullen shuts the door behind him. Even though Cullen’s study is dimly lit, he can see what Cullen has done to his desk. He’s pushed it to the center of the room, with old chairs on either end. A white tablecloth covers it, and there’s silverware and dishes and food on it.

“I...I don’t understand,” Dorian says softly. What was this? What was Cullen doing?”

“It’s not an emergency, or political, or...anything,” Cullen said, nervousness diminishing his voice. “I--it’s, uh--I just wanted to, um, have dinner with you.”

Dorian looks at Cullen, who is now standing beside him. He searches Cullen’s eyes for some deeper meaning he’s not understanding. Even under the poor lighting, he can see blush rising on Cullen’s face, and suddenly, everything clicks: Krem’s spastic episode. Lavellan hiding the details. Josephine didn’t know exactly what was going on, but Lavellan knew Josephine was related. Krem and Lavellan had known of this, and were hiding it from him. It was a  _ surprise _ .

“You did this for me?”

Cullen nods, and Dorian feels his stomach knot. He struggles to find something witty and charming to say, so he says nothing, looking at Cullen for a moment, until Cullen gestures for Dorian to take his seat at the table. When Dorian notices the two small candles at the center of the table, he ignites them effortlessly with magic from his seat. Cullen watches intently, and now, Dorian can see the blush covering his face and neck even more than Dorian had thought. Cullen was  _ nervous _ .

“What is the purpose of this?” he asks, feeling his own anxiety abate into bravado. “I know my charm is irresistible, but surely there must be some underlying motive.”

Dorian watches as Cullen takes a moment to respond. Was he  _ tonguetied _ ? “It’s Matchmaker Day, right?” Cullen says finally in a soft, low voice.

Dorian leans back into his chair, taken aback. “I--okay. All right. I thought maybe I was projecting, but...this is...real.”

Cullen nods, and Dorian needs a moment to take it all in. This was a date. With the Commander. On Matchmaker Day.

Dorian can’t stop himself from smirking in response. “Commander, if you wanted a date, you didn’t need to send Krem and Lavellan to be your messengers.”

“I--I know,” Cullen said quietly. He reaches for the food in front of them, and Dorian assumes he’s doing it to give his anxious hands something to do. “I was too afraid to ask you in person.”

“Why?” Dorian laughs, mirroring Cullen’s actions and reaching toward the center of the table. “I know I’m a threat not to be reckoned with, but we’re on the same side.”

Cullen looked at Dorian, away, and back again, hesitated for a few moments before finally answering:

“I was afraid you wouldn’t be interested.”

For the first time since joining the Inquisition, Dorian sees the vulnerability of the human behind the armor and weaponry. He can see Cullen as someone afraid of showing this kind of intimacy to someone who--well, someone who means a lot to Cullen. Dorian begins to feel blush creeping up on his own skin, and he fidgets in his chair before clearing his throat.

“I have been interested in you for a long time, Cullen. If anything, I thought  _ you  _ wouldn’t be.”

Cullen smiles, though nervous, but it’s sincere. Dorian can’t help but return it.

 

 

 

 

 

After some light conversation about chess, their families, their homelands, and just how clever Lavellan and Krem could be, and after Dorian manages to make Cullen laugh and revel in how warm and beautiful the sound is, Dorian realizes the night is coming to an end. The food is gone, the candles burned down to nearly nothing, and for the first time in his life, Dorian’s voice needs a break from talking. He stands from the table.

“I have work to return to before the day’s end. As I am sure you do as well.”

It’s nothing Dorian couldn’t do until tomorrow, but he needs to create the finality of this date. Even though Dorian wants to kiss Cullen until their mouths are raw and have Cullen fuck him until they can’t breathe and bite bruises into Cullen’s skin and never, ever, ever leave Cullen’s bed, he can’t. He knows he can’t. This was just a date. He couldn’t afford to get too ahead of himself. He had to stifle his desires.

Cullen follows Dorian to the door, if not a bit awkwardly. Cullen begins to open the door for Dorian, but Dorian presses his hand against it, keeping it closed.

“You are full of surprises, Cullen,” Dorian says through a small, soft smile. “Please do keep them coming.”

Dorian knows he can’t leave without touching Cullen, even briefly. He rests his hand on Cullen’s hair, flattening an unruly portion raised from Cullen’s nervous fingers. He can feel Cullen freeze, nervousness rendering him motionless. As he examines Cullen’s face--the pink on his cheeks, his honey-brown eyes, scruff, soft hair, the scar running through his lips--Dorian lets his hand fall to Cullen’s chin, tipping up his face ever so slightly. He can’t stop another smile from blooming across his lips, small and private and intimate, borne from the butterflies that looking at Cullen has always given him.

He’s wanted this for so long, and now that Cullen does as well…

Dorian presses a small, soft kiss against Cullen’s lips. The small noise from their separation almost echoes through Cullen’s study, and Dorian almost can’t hear it over the sound of blood pumping through his ears. The gentle touch of their noses, the taste of his chapped lips, his scruff on Dorian’s thumb--it’s somehow unprecedented, yet flawless. Dorian had been imagining this for so long, but he had never gotten it right. He couldn’t couldn’t imagine how kissing Cullen would feel.

Cullen’s eyes flutter open, and he looks at Dorian. His mouth is slightly parted, and Dorian can tell he’s breathing fast. His face is so red that Dorian could feel the flush of his skin as they kissed, and it was the greatest compliment. Seeing Cullen so nerve-wracked by Dorian was something Dorian had imagined but never thought would become reality. And now, here was Cullen in front of him.

Dorian smirks. “Have a good night, Cullen.”

Dorian leaves and closes the door behind him. As he heads to his own quarters, he revels in the warmth of summer air, the coolness of the night wind. The moon is bright and full and beautiful above him, and Dorian can’t help but feel the same way.


End file.
